


Towerblock

by sunshyndaisies (writergirlie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-28
Updated: 2010-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirlie/pseuds/sunshyndaisies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron accompanies Hermione on one of the most important trips of her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Towerblock

_You make me feel vulnerable and totally exposed_

 _You make me feel like a teenager dressed in a woman's clothes_

 _And I ask you, and I ask you, where do we go from here?_

 _All my life, I've been the one who's big and strong for everyone_

 _Then you come along, a towerblock for me to lean on..._

 _And I ask you, where do we go from here?_

\-- “Towerblock” (Julia Fordham)

 

 

It had started to rain.

 

Tiny, insignificant droplets at first, like a fine spray of mist, then, in what seemed like no time at all, fat pearls of water pelting from the sky, splattering on the ground and soaking through Hermione’s jacket. All around her, people had begun to scatter, running for the nearest form of shelter, holding briefcases or handbags—or anything else that would do the job—above their heads and muttering about the incompetence of the weatherman on the telly.

 

She wished she’d packed more appropriately; normally she would have done the proper research before booking the aeroplane tickets, of course, but it had been a last-minute trip and she’d had far more important things on her mind. She fought a shudder—successfully, she had thought, until she felt long arms encircle her from behind, wrapping around her tightly and the beginnings of her shivering were contained at once.

 

“I think I tipped the taxi driver a bit too much,” said Ron. “Muggle money... why’s it got to be so complicated?”

 

She smiled and turned her head to look up at him.

 

“I’m sorry. I should have waited and helped-”

 

“‘S’all right,” he said. “I got it sorted out eventually.” He eased off her to shrug his jacket off and held it over their heads. “Best I can do for now. I reckon this lot might get a little suspicious if I make it stop raining over us.”

 

“Just a little,” she said, laughing softly.

 

“Is this it, then? Have we got the right place?”

 

She nodded, looking at the apartment house across the street, into which a mail carrier had just gone. She felt the weight of Ron’s stare, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Not yet. She knew once she did, there’d be no stopping the tears that had pooled in her eyes.

 

“It’s nice,” he said. “It looks nice.”

 

“Yes.”

 

It shouldn’t have surprised her that it looked vaguely familiar, bearing a slight resemblance to the apartment house where her grandparents had once lived. Hermione had remembered visiting there when she was little, before her grandad had died and her grandmum had gone off to the country to live with her sister.

 

“Hermione?”

 

She swallowed hard, but it did nothing to make the lump in her throat go away. On the contrary, it seemed to be lodged in there more than ever.

 

“Hermione...”

 

His voice was soft, like a murmur, and she felt his hand curve around her waist. She brought a hand up to close over his, letting his fingers thread through hers.

 

“Are you OK?”

 

It took a long time before she responded, and when she did, she could only shake her head. She thought she’d been ready to do this; she’d thought of nothing else since waking up in his arms in the sunken cushions of the sofa in the Gryffindor common room, when the aftermath of the battle hadn’t even fully sunk in and the smell of soot and ash and blood still lingered in the air and on their clothes.

 

He’d asked her then if there had been anything he could get her. And she said the first words that came to her mind:

 

“My parents.”

 

The air shook with thunder. Fresh water had poured out of the sky, beating down on them so hard now, that even the relative protection that Ron’s jacket had been offering them was of little use. She felt his gentle tug and let him lead her towards the news stand on the corner, where the newsagent was busy packing away the newspapers and magazines to pay them any mind.

 

“What’s the matter?” he said. She noticed he was sweeping his thumb across her knuckles. When she looked down at their hands, he stilled the motion and gave her a small squeeze. “Are you scared?”

 

“No,” she said. “Nothing really scares me anymore. Not after... Anyway, I’ve got you with me.”

 

“Then what is it?”

 

She looked up at him. He towered over her, so that her head came up to his collarbone. He’d always been taller than her, but it was only then that she’d noticed how differently he stood now. Gone was the awkward, gangly stance of his youth, when he didn’t always know what to do with his large hands or his long arms, when he stooped over ever so slightly, as though to apologise for his height. When he wasn’t always certain of himself.

 

Somewhere along the way, he’d grown into his shoulders, broadened and straightened, and stood rooted into the ground as though nothing or no one could ever sway him ever again. And as he held her close, she knew she’d be able to lean into him, and he’d be able to take the full bear of her weight.

 

He’d be able to take all of it.

 

“What if... I can’t bring them back? What if I can’t reverse it?”

 

He tilted her chin up. “I seriously doubt that there’s anything Hermione Granger can’t do.”

 

She laughed. “Well... that makes one of us.” She looked back across the street, then turned to him and said, “Will you come inside with me? I think... I think they’d be happy to see you too. To know that you’ve been with me all this time.”

 

“Of course.”

 

She brought her hands up to his chest and stood on her toes to kiss him, well aware that the newsagent was gawking at them. She heard his low whistle of approval when they finally parted.

 

“Nice lookin’ couple, you two are,” he said, giving them a cheeky grin. He took a flower from one of the bouquets he had for sale and thrust it at Ron. “Here,” he said. “Pretty rose for a pretty girl.”

 

Ron smiled and handed him a $2 coin, but the newsagent waved it away.

 

“It’s on me, mate.”

 

“Hey, thanks!”

 

Hermione tugged on his hand and pulled him across the street, and together they ran in the rain, laughing as their feet splattered on the water. He kissed her again when they got to the door, breathless and flushed from excitement.

 

“Ready?” he said.

 

“I think so.”

 

“Hermione,” he said, as her hand closed around the door handle, “whatever happens...”

 

“I know you’ll be with me,” she finished for him.

 

He met her smile and reached past her to pull the door open.

 

“After you.”


End file.
